


A Love with Wings

by Wolf_dog



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom John, Dom Sherlock, Dominant Sherlock, M/M, Sub John, Top Sherlock, Winglock, submissive John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:24:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4962247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_dog/pseuds/Wolf_dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson was eight when he first met Dom Sherlock Holmes. </p><p>Sherlock was the only person that John had ever submitted to, and they promised each other to stay together forever. </p><p>Fluffy teenlock with wings!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Love with Wings

John was eight when a new family moved into the house next door. He’d been holed up in his room, ignoring the sounds of his parents arguing downstairs, soft tawny wings wrapped almost completely around himself, except for a small gap to see through as he gazed out of the window, wishing he could sneak out and wishing that his wings were strong enough for him to fly with. As it was, his window would creak loudly if he tried to open it, and his wings wouldn’t be able support him – they were still filled with fluffy down and not the proper feathers that would grow when he was a teenager.

A moving truck had been by yesterday, and now a sleek black car pulled up outside of the house next door and the first one out was a young boy, probably around John’s age. He had pale skin, and dark brown curly hair, and his wings were incredibly dark and sleek. Immediately, John knew what he was – a Dom. There was absolutely that he was a Sub like John. The boy held himself like a Dom – upright and with an air of absolute confidence. John had met Doms before, and he’d never met one that he’d even remotely liked. They were all arrogant beyond belief, and wanted absolute submission from every Sub that they met, and John hated it. Eyes narrowing, John watched as the boy raced around the house and out of John’s sight.

John watched disinterestedly as another boy – this one a teen with auburn hair and wings, and John wasn’t sure if he was a Dom or Sub – and two adults got out of the car and slowly made their way out of sight as they entered the house.

John turned away from the window and looked down at the current cause of his parent’s arguing – his bloody and bruised knuckles. John had gotten into a fight (again) with a Dom that had tried to make him submit to him. John had never reacted to a Dom – his wings never lowered, he never felt the urge to lower his gaze or bare his neck. If it wasn’t the fact that John _knew_ that he was a Sub, he could easily pass as a Dom if he wished. John didn’t care how brawny or big a Dom was; he refused to submit to anyone unless they earned it.

Glancing at the window once more, John decided that he’d steer clear of the Dom that had moved in next door. It wasn’t worth the hassle.

*.*.*.*

John managed to steer clear of the family that moved in next door for two weeks, before he ran into the Dom. John had been going for a walk – needing to get out of the house and away from his parents who were yet again arguing -, when he came across the Dom stretching his wings. It was a gorgeous sight, and John stopped still where he was on the footpath. The Dom had his back to John, and his wings were completely extended and curled upwards slightly. John took a good look, entranced and forgetting that he was meant to be steering clear of all Doms. The feathers were still downy and fluffy, and they were darker at the top (almost black) whilst the bottom of the feathers were a light brown. They were absolutely gorgeous. Then, John noticed the barely-there fluffy pair of small second wings just below the first and was astounded. Only very, very powerful beings had two pairs of wings.

John stepped forward, and the Dom turned his head with a slight smirk, locking eyes and not looking at all surprised to see John. John flushed in embarrassment, gaze dropping and turned his head to the side, only to catch sight of his wings and was surprised to see that they had lowered submissively.

John tried to raise them again, but it was like they had a mind of their own and refused to listen to him. Looking back to the Dom, he saw that the other boy had turned to face him and was watching him with piercing blue-grey eyes.

“What?” John snapped defensively, wanting to curl his wings around himself to hide, but they frustratingly stayed spread and lowered.

The Dom blinked slowly, and John was completely unprepared for the slew of words that poured from his mouth, “You’re my age, Sub obviously, you have an older sibling, your father is an alcoholic and your parents fight often – hence why you’re out here now. You’ve been avoiding me, even though your parents have already stopped over to say hello and welcome us to the neighbourhood, and at school you only interact with other Subs, so clearly you have a problem with Doms. This is due to the fact that you have a dislike of Doms as every Dom you have met has tried – and failed – to force you to submit.”

John gaped for a moment, astounded with all of the information that this Dom had just given him. And it was all, completely, “Amazing,” John breathed out without thinking.

The Dom in front of him blinked rapidly, as if confused, his face scrunching up adorably, though his wings puffed up with pride. “That’s… not what people normally say,” he said slowly, his voice already a deep rumble for someone so young.

“Then what do people normally say?” John challenged.

“Piss off,” the Dom returned.

John’s lips twitched, and then he was laughing, unable to help it. After a moment, the other boy started chuckling and John felt much more comfortable around him already. Maybe this Dom wasn’t so bad. “My name’s John,” John introduced himself, holding out his hand when his laughing had slowed, but the grin remained on his face.

“Sherlock Holmes,” the Dom introduced himself, reaching out and taking hold of John’s hand in a firm grip that made his wings shiver. The touch was exceptionally pleasing, even if John didn’t exactly know why.

Sherlock smirked at him, and slowly released his hand. Then, abruptly, Sherlock turned and started striding off, calling over his shoulder, “Come on, John! I’ve got something to show you!”

*.*.*.*

The ‘something’ turned out to be Sherlock deducing others whilst John giggled and praised Sherlock. From that moment on, they were absolutely inseparable – both in school and out of it – and spent every spare moment together. Mostly, they spent time at Sherlock’s house, as John didn’t want Sherlock to have to suffer meeting the rest of his family, and Sherlock never pushed. No doubt he could hear John’s parents’ shouts even from his house.

Whilst they were at Sherlock’s, if Sherlock sat on the couch, then John would sit on the floor and lean back against the couch and lean against the side of Sherlock’s legs. It felt natural, especially when Sherlock would card his fingers into John’s blonde hair and gently massage his scalp with his long, wonderful fingers. The casual possessive touch was soothing, and incredibly relaxing. Sometimes, Sherlock would even groom his wings for him, and that intimate touch almost always sent John into such a relaxed state he would be almost asleep.

The first time John slept over Sherlock’s house, it hadn’t been planned. It was eight o’clock, and all the lights had already gone out in Sherlock’s house, but John didn’t care. Only a few minutes earlier, John’s parents had yelled at him, blaming him for his sister’s constant disappearances. John had retreated into his room, fell down onto his bed and lay there for only a moment before deciding that he couldn’t stand to be in this house for a moment longer. Opening the damned creaky window, John slid out, his wings trembling from his emotions just like his lower lip, and raced over to Sherlock’s house. John scaled the wall and eased the window to Sherlock’s bedroom open (he knew which one it was because of how often he was here) which, unlike his, didn’t creak at all, and slid inside and shut it behind him.

John looked around the familiar room, wings wrapping around himself as he tried not to cry. No matter how strong he tried to be, John was nine and his parents meant the world to him. Sherlock was in his bed, but had rolled over when John entered, eyes sleepy and soft, and reached out for John, pulling up the bedsheets so John could clamber in and into his embrace. The Sub went willingly, crawling across the bed and tucked himself into Sherlock’s body. Sherlock’s arms wrapped around him, as well as the larger set of wings that could only wrap loosely around him, but the second set hugged him close to Sherlock’s body, almost like a second pair of arms. Eyes closing, John sniffled and tucked his head under Sherlock’s chin.

He felt safe here, and knew that Sherlock would never do anything that would harm him emotionally or physically, and knew that Sherlock would keep him safe and protect him. Sherlock hummed soothingly, his hands rubbing gently against John’s back until John relaxed and went practically limp in Sherlock’s hold. He gave a shuddering sigh, nosing Sherlock’s neck and squirming a little until he was completely comfortable. He could barely move in Sherlock’s grip, and it was a wonderful feeling. One of Sherlock’s hands crept up and carded through the hair at the back of his neck.

“It’s not your fault,” Sherlock murmured, his second set of smaller wings flexing slightly and drawing John even closer, and John made a soft noise of questioning, “I could hear them from here. Your sister wouldn’t listen even if you tried to talk to her into not going out partying. There’s nothing you can do, and your parents are wrong to blame you. That is not a good environment for anyone. You should stay here, with me. I’ll care for you, you know I will.”

Sherlock’s voice was both gentle and firm, relieving John of the doubts that had been resting at the back of his mind unnoticed, and it took him a moment to realise what it was that Sherlock had said last. “Your parents,” John started, frowning slightly, but was quickly cut off by Sherlock.

“Don’t have to know. I can take care of you fine without their help or knowledge,” Sherlock interrupted him, voice firm. Sherlock seemed to have already made up his mind on what was going to happen, and John’s wings shivered pleasantly where they were tucked up against his back.

“They don’t like me,” John whispered, and knew he was right when Sherlock hesitated.

“They don’t like anyone,” Sherlock answered after a moment, and gave a light tug to John’s hair, “Don’t worry, I promise that they won’t keep us apart.”

John tilted his head back and opened his eyes to look at Sherlock, biting his lower lip. He was hesitant to hold onto such a promise, but John desperately needed the reassurance. “Not ever?” John asked hesitantly after a moment.

“I promise they will never keep us apart,” Sherlock promised him, and pressed a light kiss to the top of John’s head.

“And I promise to always wait for you if they do,” John promised in return, and tucked his head under Sherlock’s chin once more.

Sherlock squeezed John lightly and they both fell silent, and it wasn’t long until John was sliding into the peacefulness of sleep.

*.*.*.*

John spent most of his time with Sherlock from then on, and hardly ever went back home. Of course, he had to go back home occasionally, but not very often. As promised, Sherlock took care of him. John would have to go back to his house at dinner time, and would eat the meagre scraps from the fridge, then he’d go to his room, crawl out the window and crawl into Sherlock’s room. Sherlock would always leave his window open for John, but they would close it as soon as John arrived, and then Sherlock would sit John down on the chair and feed him a warm, delicious dinner one mouthful at a time until John was full. Then, they would stay up for a while, talking or doing homework, and then they’d crawl into bed together and fall asleep.

During the night, they tended to drift apart in their sleep, and then come back together, except with Sherlock generally spooning John from behind. Sherlock would wrap both sets of wings around him, and John would be unable to move or squirm away, and it was an absolutely wonderful feeling to be held that tightly.

One night when John was thirteen, it had started off like every other night, and John had woken as usual with Sherlock wrapped around him tightly from behind, except it had only taken John a moment to realise that something was different. John’s cock was hard, and when John squirmed and it rubbed against the front of his pants, John couldn’t help but to gasp at the pleasurable feeling. It took him another moment to realise that this was his first erection. Squirming in Sherlock’s tight grasp, John’s head tilted back and his wings shuddered with pleasure.

Behind him, Sherlock grumbled sleepily, and John opened his eyes and tilted his head to look at Sherlock. Sherlock opened his eyes sleepily and yawned, then, casually as if Sherlock owned every part of John and was entitled to, Sherlock slid his hand down John’s body and into his pants, to wrap around John’s hard cock. John whimpered at both the feel and the casual possessive touch, eyes falling closed as his hips tried to thrust up, but were held in place by the tight grip Sherlock’s second pair of wings had on them.

Held in place and unable to move, John found himself tilting his head to the side and baring his neck for Sherlock, and it felt as if he was sliding into a completely different headspace. Sherlock’s hand was tight around his cock, almost as if he was waiting, and as soon as John went limp in his hold once more, Sherlock began to slowly stroke John’s hard member.

“Good boy, John,” Sherlock murmured in his ear as John whined, his voice even deeper than normal.

Sherlock sped up his pace, and it wasn’t long before John was crying out with pleasure and shaking. A light coating of sweat covered him, and John felt a kind of bliss that he’d never experienced before, a shuddering sigh leaving him as his lips curled up at the sides.

“John,” Sherlock murmured in his ear, and John hummed blissfully in response, “Lick.”

Sherlock’s tone was not one to be argued with, so, without opening his eyes, John opened his mouth and licked at whatever was in front of him obediently. It was a little salty and tasted funny, but John was far too blissed out to care, and lapped at whatever it was until all he could taste was Sherlock’s palm.

“Good boy,” Sherlock praised, and John sighed in content.

Snuggling back into Sherlock’s body, John asked sleepily, “What time’s it?”

“Early,” Sherlock responded, “You can still go back to sleep before we have to wake for school.”

John hummed, pleased, and snuggled backwards into Sherlock. Sherlock pressed a kiss to the back of John’s neck, and tenderly tucked John’s limp member back into his pants and curled his arms around John’s waist once more as John slipped back into sleep.

*.*.*.*

It was two years later when Sherlock got his first erection. Ever since that morning two years ago, Sherlock had been taking care of John’s morning erections, and every other erection that John got. Most of the erections that John got were caused in one way or another by Sherlock, and he was sure Sherlock knew that even though John had never told him. Their relationship had evolved past friendship, to include kisses and cuddling and hand-holding, and John was always amused when Sherlock got possessive in public, and if he thought someone else was trying to hit on John, Sherlock would grab the Sub and snog him thoroughly no matter where they were. And, okay, that had led to John provoking Sherlock a couple of time to get some possessive and ridiculously hot kisses, but no one could really blame him.

John had been coming out of the shower, towel slung over his waist and on his way to steal some of Sherlock’s clothes for pyjamas, when Sherlock (who had been lying on the bed) gave a startled noise that instantly stole John’s attention. Turning, John’s wings perked curiously, John saw Sherlock staring at his own lap intently. John followed the Dom’s gaze and his wings dropped submissively as he saw Sherlock’s tented trousers.

“Sherlock?” John asked hesitantly, making his way over to the bed.

Sherlock’s gaze lifted and fixed on him, pupils blown wide with arousal and wings arched high over his head in a display of pure dominance that sent John’s knees giving out from under him and he ended up kneeling on the floor.

“This…was unexpected,” Sherlock admitted, his gaze hungry as he looked down at John.

“What caused it?” John questioned, incredibly curious as to what had given Sherlock his first erection.

“You,” Sherlock told him, as if it was obvious, and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, “I peeked whilst you were in the shower.”

John blinked in surprise. He hadn’t even noticed the door (which he had locked, by the way, as he didn’t want Sherlock’s brother or parents walking in on him showering) opening. John was shaken out of his thoughts when Sherlock beckoned him closer.

John shuffled closer until he was situated between Sherlock’s spread legs. Sherlock reached down and carded his fingers gently through John’s feathers, causing John to sigh blissfully, eyes half-closing. “I want to try something, John,” Sherlock murmured above him, “Will you let me? Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” John answered without hesitation. John trusted Sherlock completely. Sherlock was the only Dom who John had ever liked or reacted to, and John wanted him to be the only one.

John glanced up, and Sherlock smiled down at him in praise, which warmed John from the inside. “Good boy,” Sherlock murmured, and lifted his hands to caress John’s cheeks. Sherlock bent down as John stretched up, and kissed him heatedly until John was limp in his grasp, with eyes closed and whimpering softly.

“Open,” Sherlock commanded, thumb swiping over John’s lower lip as he pulled back.

John kept his eyes closed and opened his mouth as ordered, completely relaxed and sliding into that now-familiar headspace where all that mattered was whatever Sherlock would give him.

There was rustling from the bed, and then one of Sherlock’s hands cupped the back of his head lightly and brought him slightly forwards until his lips brushed against something warm. After a moment, he realised it was Sherlock’s cock, and John moaned breathily. Above him, Sherlock chuckled softly, and then Sherlock’s cock was being pressed into his mouth. John didn’t fight it, but instead relaxed into the feeling and opened his mouth even wider. It felt good, for his mouth to be filled like this.

John moaned as his nose pressed against the soft curls around the base of Sherlock’s cock, and he could both hear and feel Sherlock’s accelerated breathing.

“Look at me, John,” Sherlock ordered him, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked.

John opened his eyes obligingly, and was surprised by how Sherlock looked. His face was flushed red, mouth parted slightly and pupils so huge that there was barely a glimpse of his gorgeous eye-colour, and his wings were up high on display, the gorgeous dark colours causing John’s own wings to shiver and stay spread and lowered.

“You do this to me, John,” Sherlock said softly, eyes half-closing as he twitched his hips slightly, “Only you. It will only ever be you, John.”

John whined in pleasure, and Sherlock shuddered.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth now, John. And one day I’m going to fuck your arse,” Sherlock growled, tone excited and John moaned around Sherlock’s cock greedily.

Sherlock’s hand on the back of his neck tightened, and then Sherlock started moving his hips. Slowly, at first, as he brought his cock all the way out and rubbed the head against John’s lips, and then all the way back in. Then, his pace got quicker and his thrusts got shorter. John kept his gaze up on Sherlock, entranced by how handsome Sherlock was like this.

It wasn’t all that long before Sherlock was crying out and curling over John as he orgasmed down John’s throat. Sherlock panted hard as John swallowed, his hips rocking slightly before he slowly pulled out of John’s mouth. John licked his lips, then licked Sherlock’s cock clean and tucked him back into his pants.

Sherlock flopped backwards on the bed, and John crawled up onto the bed with him, snuggling into Sherlock’s side and wrapping an arm around Sherlock’s waist with a blissful smile. Sherlock’s wings curled around him, keeping him close.

“Good… good boy, John,” Sherlock mumbled, eyes closed and his breathing slowly slowing down to his normal rate.

John hummed in reply, and it wasn’t long after that before Sherlock fell asleep, and John followed soon after.

*.*.*.*

John and Sherlock had decided to wait until they’d graduated before having sex for the first time. After all, they didn’t really want to have sex in either one of their parent’s houses, though that didn’t stop them from doing other stuff.

They’d planned on renting a room in a hotel on the night of graduation (a nice hotel, and Sherlock had refused to tell him how much it would cost) and there they would have sex for the first time.

But, only that never happened. After the ceremony for graduation, John had gone to say goodbye to his parents, and Sherlock had gone to say goodbye to his, and Sherlock had promised to meet him out the front of the school. So, John had gone and waited. And waited.

Sherlock never showed up.

John was absolutely distraught, and had waited all night and well into the next morning. John flew home, his wings now strong enough to support him, though he couldn’t fly very far yet as he was still young, and discovered that Sherlock’s entire family had moved. The house next door was empty once more. Not even a trace of the fact that they’d lived here remained.

John had searched the entire house, but found no message from Sherlock.

John didn’t own a phone (why would he, when Sherlock just lived next door? And besides, John was terrible with electronic devices and it was better to leave those to Sherlock) nor did he have a computer, so there was no way for his to talk to Sherlock.

Sherlock had left him behind.

Even after promising that they’d never let Sherlock’s parents get between them, Sherlock had left him.

*.*.*.*

For weeks, John was in a state of shock and denial, sure that any day Sherlock would turn back up and sweep him away and apologise. But, it never happened.

John was strong. He hadn’t cried when his parents had yelled at him, nor when he’d broken his arm, nor when his mother had died in a car crash, and not even when his father had died from a heart attack a year later. But, after a year, John had to face the truth – Sherlock wasn’t coming back. That broke John. John cried then. He cried and cried, and wailed at the unfairness of it all.

Another year passed, and John had to move on. He moved out of his parent’s house (it had become his after his parents died, and Harry had moved out quite quickly, leaving him on his own), and moved in with his friend Mike. Mike was a Dom, and a single one, but he was gently-spoken and knew that John would never want anyone other than Sherlock.

It had been Mike who had encouraged him to continue his dream and study to become a doctor, Mike who would pick him up out of his depression every year and help him through the hard times, Mike who took away the alcohol and forced him to continue on living, Mike who convinced him that it was okay to fly again. Mike was a great friend, and John owed him a lot. Owed him everything, really.

Four years passed since the day Sherlock abandoned him, and John – now twenty-one – was now used to fending off Doms for himself. For some reason, they thought him fair game, but a few well-placed punches and they left him alone.

Eventually, it was Mike who convinced him to go to the Ball. Balls were held every two months, to help Subs and Doms meet, and were held at every local hall.

John hadn’t wanted to go – he would stick to his promise even if Sherlock hadn’t -, but eventually Mike had wheeled his way into convincing John to go, if only so that he could make sure Mike didn’t do anything stupid.

And that was how John found himself leaning against a pillar at the far end of the hall, away from most of the people, a drink in hand (Mike had made him promise only one alcoholic drink for the night), and glaring as he surveyed the crowd. John knew he had changed since Sherlock left. He’d become more hostile and bitter, with a quicker temper and no tolerance for idiots.

He’d already been here for two hours, and Mike was still talking to one female Sub with pretty chocolate wings, and John was bored. He’d already offended five Doms, punched three, and even gotten one to submit to him. John’s wings remained high in defiance, and he knew that they would only lower for one person – Sherlock.

Even thinking his name was painful. But, John pushed those thoughts away and took a sip of his drink with a grimace. Glancing over at Mike, John smiled fondly as his friend boasted about something.

A flash of dark curls caught his eye, and John’s head turned quickly, but they were gone. John’s heart pounded, but he rolled his eyes at himself. There were lots of people in the world who had curly hair, he scolded himself, taking another sip of his drink.

Then, there was a presence at his back, and John scowled, about to turn and tell whoever it was behind him to piss off, when he realised that his wings had lowered. Frowning, John didn’t even have the time to turn, before a voice whispered in his ear, “Hello, John.”

*.*.*.*

Time stood still, and John swore that his heart stopped for a moment. John’s body reacted automatically to the familiar voice – his knees giving out from under him and head tilting to the side to bare his neck. John whined, a keening, heartbroken sound as tears sparked in his eyes, and his hands shook.

“Shh,” Sherlock soothed him, and John could hear rustling and assumed Sherlock had crouched down behind him, as large, familiar wings wrapped around him, a pale hand took the drink away from him and set it down somewhere out of his sight, and arms wrapped around him. “It’s alright, John, I’m sorry,” Sherlock whispered in his ear.

“You-,” John gasped out, tears spilling down his cheeks and his whole body shook.

“I know,” Sherlock rumbled, pressing a kiss to John’s neck, “I didn’t want to, believe me.”

“Then, why?” John got out, his voice trembling as he leaned back into Sherlock’s embrace.

“My parents,” Sherlock spat out the words with such hate that John whined again, “Shh, sorry, I’m sorry my dear. It’s alright.”

John shook his head, but before he could say anything more, a figure loomed over them.

“Oi! Get your hands off, mate!” Mike snarled from above, and John looked up through watery eyes to see Mike scowling fiercely and looking prepared to fight.

John realised then that Sherlock and Mike had never met.

“Who are you?” Sherlock asked in a low growl, body tense against John’s back.

Sherlock stood, bringing John up with him, his second pair of wings wrapped firmly around John’s hips and keeping him steady and pressed against Sherlock’s front.

“None of your business,” Mike shot back, “But I know you should keep your hands off of John! He’s taken!”

John winced, and although he knew Mike was just trying to look out for him, now was not the time. “Mike,” John protested weakly, his voice soft and still shaking from all his emotions, just like his wings.

“John?” Sherlock asked lowly, fury evident in his tone, “What does he mean?”

John shuddered, and shot a dirty look at Mike. “Nothing. He’s just trying to help,” John told Sherlock, fingers gripping onto Sherlock’s arms. John took in a deep breath and told Mike softly, “Mike, this is Sherlock.”

Mike’s eyes widened and he reeled back slightly, obviously in shock. Then, his eyes narrowed and his wings puffed up, and he shot forward before John could react, socking Sherlock in the jaw with his fist.

John cried out as Sherlock fell backwards a step. “Mike!” John shouted, scowling, struggling to balance himself as Sherlock staggered and had to release John to gain his own balance back.

Mike started forward again, determination in his set jaw, and John rushed forward, blocking him. “Mike, stop it!” John demanded.

“John, why is he defending you?” Sherlock snarled from behind him as John struggled to hold Mike back from taking another swing at Sherlock.

“You bastard!” Mike shouted, more enraged than John had ever seen him, “You have no right! No right! You have no idea what you did!”

John’s face flushed, wishing that Mike would shut up. He didn’t want Sherlock to know what he’d gone through in the four years since Sherlock had left him. “Mike!” John shouted over him, furious.

“John,” Sherlock snapped, his tone an order and John had no choice but to let go of Mike and step back to Sherlock’s side.

Instantly, Sherlock’s arms wrapped around him and dragged him behind Sherlock, tucked between Sherlock’s wings.

“I don’t know who you are, but you need to stand down,” Sherlock snarled, “John is _my_ Sub! Mine!”

“You don’t deserve him, not after what you did! You have no idea how much you hurt him! _I_ was the one who picked him up after you left! That kind of pain shouldn’t be forgiven!” Mike snapped, breathing heavily, “You have no idea what it was like! He _wanted to die!_ ”

“Mike!” John shouted, angry now, “That’s enough!”

Mike shut his mouth, but John could still see the anger evident in him.

“I’ll see you later, Mike,” John said, voice firm and Mike huffed, before spinning around and stomping off.

Sherlock seemed to be frozen, his whole body tense and he didn’t move even after Mike left and disappeared into the crowd.

“Sherlock?” John asked hesitantly, tugging lightly on Sherlock’s shirt, “Please look at me,” John begged.

He’d yet to see Sherlock’s face, and he so desperately needed to. Slowly, Sherlock tucked in his wings and turned around, looking down at John. His face showed shock, and horror.

He was still gorgeous. Sherlock’s cheekbones had always been pronounced, but they were now more than ever, and his curls were even curlier than ever. There were deep bags under his eyes, and he was skinny, but he’d grown. Sherlock was taller than him by a good few inches now, and John reached up hesitantly and pressed his palm against Sherlock’s cheek. Slowly, John stretched up and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s lips gently.

Sherlock was frozen for a moment, and then slowly returned the kiss. Gently, Sherlock wrapped his wings around John once more, and cupped John’s face with his hands. John’s eyes stayed open, gazing up into Sherlock’s, desperately trying to re-memorise them.

Slowly, Sherlock pulled back. “John,” he started, voice uncertain and John shook his head.

“Not here, yeah? We can talk in private. Where are you staying?” John cut him off.

“A flat in the centre of London. It’s not too far. Will you come home with me, John?” Sherlock sounded unconfident, and it was odd and John didn’t like it.

“Of course I will, you git,” John teased, smiling and was pleased when Sherlock returned the smile.

*.*.*.*

Back at Sherlock’s flat, they discussed everything. Turns out, Sherlock’s parents had basically kidnapped Sherlock and they’d gone to the other side of the world. They’d tried to marry Sherlock off to some Sub, but Sherlock had refused. They’d intercepted every one of the letters Sherlock had tried to send to John, and undermined every one of his attempts to escape. Until, one day, Mycroft had stood up to their parents and helped Sherlock escape back to London.

John, in return, told Sherlock everything – his depression, suicidal thoughts, everything. Sherlock had been distraught, and they spent the remainder of the night cuddling and reassuring each other with physical contact.

They knew it wouldn’t be easy, but they were finally back together and willing to fight.

It was easy to fall back into old habits, and they fought sometimes as all couples do, but they were happy.

After all, there couldn’t be a Sherlock Holmes without a John Watson, nor a John Watson without a Sherlock Holmes.

They lived happily for the most part, solving crimes together and eventually retiring to the countryside to keep bees.

FIN


End file.
